True
by glitterycutie
Summary: It isn't the first time Harley has messed up, and it won't be the last.
1. true

_...I find it_ _ **very,very,**_ _easy to be true…_

 _Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for_ _ **you**_ _..._

He could smell her scent from miles away. Sweet cherries and bubblegum, usually with the slightest hint of blood. This isn't the first time she's ran, and it won't be the last. She thinks she can outsmart him. She thinks she is _smarter_. It's pathetic really. What a pathetic, worthless creature. So much potential. Such a waste. He knew where she was. Same spot as always, hiding in the dresser.

Cute.

"Oh pooh bear, pumpkin pie!", he said as sweetly as possible. He heard her sniffling, trying to hold in a sob. He let out a laugh, gave a nice smile. What a handsome man he was, what a kind, giving man. "Harley...pooh bear…..", he says once more. If she doesn't put up a struggle, maybe she can get off with a warning.

She finally made the smartest decision and came out of the dresser. Her frail body covered in purple bruises, still blossoming along the sides of her neck. Her cheeks were stained with tears, her nose red and eyes puffy. She held a teddy bear in her small hands, clutching it for dear life. She could be mistaken for a small child.

She stumbled towards him as he looked down upon her, seeming pleased with himself. She always comes crawling back to him.

"M-mistah J…", she cried out, running into his arms, begging for forgiveness. "Please J, forgive me, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

She clung onto him like her life depended on it. He smiled that same smile. Every time, it was _that_ smile, the one he had when he knew he was in control. He gently rubbed her back, and decided she had enough punishment for the day.

"Oh Harls,you poor, poor baby. Daddy forgives you. But when little girls are bad, they must be punished. You understand, right pooh bear?".

She nodded quickly, wiping her tears. "Yes sir, I promise never to talk back ever again. I'll be a good girl, I promise."

With her head buried in his chest, her crying, _begging_ _ **him**_ for forgiveness. She felt love and fear, and he felt power and control. He was her master, her owner. She was _his_ property. Only he could hurt her. Only he could make her feel safe. She would give up her life for him, this man who abused her, who beat her until she was an inch from death.

He laid her down gently in their bed. She let out a sigh of relief as her cheek hit the pillow. He kissed her lightly on her bruised shoulder.

"Goodnight, my harlequin. And remember, you are daddy's _favorite_ toy."

He exited the room, and Harley felt a warm feeling in her chest, one that made her smile. She knew she was his favorite, that she was special to him. She was glad to be owned by him, and this was just a reminder that she needs to be a good girl for her puddin, to always respect him. She would be better. She'd make him so proud. With that smile still on her face, Harley Quinn fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of her and her puddin painting gotham red.


	2. games

Harley was used to playing games. The Joker however, he had to get used to them. She had played with all of her professors, trying to get her grades up. She played with boys, sometimes even girls. But she just loved to play the games.

Joker didn't. He didn't want to feel. He hated the way she made him feel, it made him want to just put a bullet in her pathetic little brain. But each time she left him, he couldn't smile. He couldn't laugh. No one else but Harley had seen him cry, so how could he even do that? He could just breathe, just barely breathe. It wasn't love he felt, but pure _obsession,_ maybe with a hint of fascination. There was no reason to laugh, because she was the only one who understood the joke. She would always laugh with him. She'd kill for him, die for him, even _live_ for him.

So the Joker decided to play his own game. And he always _wins._ So he waits. Gives her about a week, practices his smile. He makes the bed, he lights some candles, he puts on a cd of classical piano, which happens to be his favorite. He's such a good man, such a _funny_ man.

His game works out the way he expected. She returned, all puffy eyed and sniffly, running into his loving arms. She apologizes, says she will do _better._ Says she'll never do it again, it is her fault. He accepts the apology. He is using the situation to his advantage, you see. This is all apart of the game. He will lure her back in, give her a beautiful, romantic evening. Then, he will do what he always does. Use her. She is a piece in his game willing to be moved wherever he wants to place her.

It's all just part of the game.


	3. perfect

There was rarely a calm moment in the relationship of Harley and the Joker. All the chaos, all the killing, it gets exhausting. Harley loves these moments, and Joker secretly takes a liking to them. This time, it was a Sunday evening, right after dinner. They both lay in bed together, not speaking a word, just staring into each other's eyes.

It was like a secret connection they shared. They could communicate just by looking at each other. They always understood each other. You could say it was simply meant to be.

Harley decided to break the silence. "Mistah J", she whispered, not breaking eye contact. Joker didn't even blink. "Yes Harley?", he purrs, giving her chills.

"This is so perfect. All of it is perfect", she says, tracing her finger along his damaged tattoo. His eyes change a little, he looks almost calm, like what she said was comforting. "It's all for you, doll. All for you". His voice is deep and seductive, and he knows it's killing her slowly. She giggles, still tracing along his beautiful, pale face. He was so beautiful. Everything about him was. And he was hers. She was his. They belonged to each other, and it was moments like this where Joker realized he cannot live without her. It was the closest to love he'd ever get.

She was the girl who didn't fear him, who didn't beg for mercy. She'd take a thousand more beatings for him if he wanted her to. She was so in love, so intoxicated with the thought of him, of his touch, his smell, his very presence. He knew what she was thinking, what all the little voices said, all the multiple choice questions, because he had them, too. They shared the same pain, and they lived for the pain. They lived for each other. And it was all _perfect._


	4. Anything for you

The Joker's voice continued to ring in Harley's ear as he carried her bridal style out of her Belle Reeve cell. "Let's go home", he purred. He came back for her. The Joker risked it all for _her._ Oh, how special she felt. He could have left her there to rot, but he saved her. She knew in that moment that he loved her. All though he never said it out loud, she knew he did. It was just in his own way.

But just as they were exiting the prison, Harley remembered something. "Puddin wait!", she screamed a bit too loud.

"Yes Harls?", he asked patiently. "MY ESPRESSO MACHINE! WE HAVE TO GO BACK FOR IT!", she yelled back at him. He took a deep breath and looked over at the henchmen, who were currently shooting a few more guards. "You heard her boys", he told them. Being the good henchmen they were, they obeyed their boss. "Thank ya, puddin", Harley said, nuzzling into his chest as he purred.

They made their way back to the van, with the Joker's henchmen following slowly behind, carrying Harley's huge espresso machine. The Joker didn't like how long it was taking them, so being the responsible boss he was, he decided to give them a little encouragement. He turned around and shot one in the head, only leaving four henchmen to carry the espresso machine. Harley giggled, and the Joker smiled back at her. "I'd appreciate it if you all would move a little bit faster. You are really beginning to try my patience."

All of the henchmen nodded and started to move quicker. "Yes, boss."

The Joker and Harley smiled as they jumped into the van. She was finally safe, and had her espresso machine. The Joker didn't even loosen his grip on her, which was okay with Harley. "Thank ya for savin me, puddin", Harley whispered to him. He purred in her ear, sending chills down her spine. "I'll always come back for you."

Harley giggled. "Still got that bear skin rug and grape soda on ice waitin for me?", she asked. A big smile spread across the Joker's face. "Of course I do, doll. Anything for you."

He continued to hold her the entire ride home, even as they got onto the private jet, he never loosened his grip. Harley fell into a much needed sleep, dreaming of that bear skin rug and the delicious grape soda on ice.


End file.
